


Farm Boy

by Evaine



Category: Metallica
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-26
Updated: 2010-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaine/pseuds/Evaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can take the boy off the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the boy. Or can you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farm Boy

“You’ll never do it.” Kirk scoffed. His hand moved from where it rested on Lars’ chest to tap Lars’ nose lightly. “Never in a million years.”

“Wanna bet?” Lars grinned up, his head resting in Kirk’s lap. “How much?”

“C’mon, Lars. This is Jason we’re talking about. No way he’ll do it.” Kirk’s short-cropped curls bounced as he shook his head. “He’s so mid-western farm boy it hurts. No way, no chance in hell.”

“Put your money where your mouth is, buddy.” Lars sat up and swung his legs over the side of the sofa. “C’mon, two hundred bucks says I can do it before the shoot tomorrow. Don’t be a pussy, Kirk. Two hundred bucks.” He grinned.

“Fuck you!”

“Pussy,” Lars taunted in a soft, sing-song voice. “Pussssseeeee.” His face was alight with impish glee. “Puss-puss-pussseeeee.”

“Okay, fuck! You’re on! Two hundred bucks.” Kirk stuck out his hand and Lars took it in a firm grip. “Gonna be the easiest two hundred bucks I ever made.”

‘We’ll see,” Lars grinned again. “We’ll just see about that.” He twisted about on the sofa and plopped his bare feet in Kirk’s lap. “How about a foot rub now?”

“Get off!” Kirk smacked the appendages in disgust. “Shit, Uli, you’ve got the grossest feet. Get ‘em off me now!”

“Two hundred bucks and a foot massage.” Lars waggled one foot under Kirk’s nose. “Let’s make it really interesting.”

Kirk grabbed the foot and pushed it away, much to Lars’ amusement. Kirk was so easy sometimes. He rubbed his other foot against Kirk’s stomach suggestively.

“C’mon, Kirk, you know you wanna.” He grinned.

“No, I don’t wanna.” Kirk pushed at both feet in annoyance. “Get ‘em off!”

“Two hundred and a foot massage, c’mon, what have you got to lose? After all, this is Jason we’re talking about.” Lars rolled his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his grin from becoming too wide.

“All right! Fuck, Lars, you’re a pain in the ass when you want to be.” Kirk pushed Lars’ feet from his lap and got to his feet. “Two hundred bucks and a fucking foot massage.” He scowled. “Can we go eat now?”

“Yeah.” Lars bounced off the sofa and ran his hands over his over-sized cotton shirt. He gave his watch a quick glance. “We’re late,” he announced. “And it’s your fault because we were watching one of your horror movies.”

“My fault!”

“Your fault.” Lars checked the mirror and smoothed his hair. “James finds out what I’m up to, I’ll be in enough shit, thank you very fucking much. I’m not taking the fall for being late.” He flashed Kirk another of his cheeky grins.

Kirk’s scowl turned into an answering smile and he slung an arm about Lars’ shoulders. “Oh, you sure as shit will be. Might even be worth giving you a fucking foot massage.”

  
@@@@@@@

“Anybody for dessert?” Jason drained his beer. “Comes with the _table de hote.”_ He looked around the table at his bandmates. “What?” He glared at Lars. “What the fuck are you snickering at?”

“French needs work, man.” Lars leaned forward, fingers curling around his coffee cup. _“Table d’hote,”_ he repeated in what Jason supposed was a near-perfect French accent. “Repeat after me… _table d’hote.”_

“I’m not fucking repeating after you,” Jason protested. It was unfair how Lars could make him feel like a country bumpkin without even half trying. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“It’s easy, Jay. _Table d’hote.”_ Lars flashed a small, encouraging smile. “Control that flat twang of yours and you can do it. _Table d’hote.”_

Jason looked to the other two for support. Kirk just grinned and bent his head to study the dessert menu—no help there. And as for James, he just gave a small roll of his eyes and leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs under the table, giving Jason’s foot an impatient nudge out of the way as he did so. On his own then… fine.

“C’mon, Jay, you wanna be ready for all those sweet, little _mademoiselles_ next time we hit Paris, don’t ya?” Lars’ eyebrows rose in inquiry. “You need some education, man. You’re so… not cultured.” He grinned.

“I’ve got as much culture as I need, thank you.” Jason plucked the dessert menu from Kirk’s hands, aware of the soft snort of amusement coming from James’ direction. Or was it derision? He never knew.

“Visigoth.” Lars gulped down the last of his coffee. “So what’s everyone planning on tonight?” He changed the subject and Jason let out a sigh of relief. “Early call tomorrow for the shoot.”

“I’m heading off to that comic art expo in the village with a couple of guys from the studio, any of you want to come?” Kirk looked at them all in turn and Jason shook his head as their eyes met. “No, didn’t think so,” Kirk said with a good-natured shrug.

“James?” Lars turned his attention to James and Jason lowered his eyes to the menu.

“Meeting up with a couple of buddies.” No invitation was forthcoming for anyone to join him and none was expected.

Jason hoped the make-up artist hired for the shoot was a good one. Chances were James’s face would need some pretty hefty touch-up work after a night of bar-hopping with his east-coast cronies.

“Jason? What’s on your agenda?” Lars tapped at the top edge of the menu to get his attention.

“Me? Um…” Jason had been planning to work on some of the material he had presented for possible inclusion on the “Load” album. Songs refused by the man whose feet were taking up so much room beneath the table. He wasn’t about to announce his intention and risk more antagonism from that quarter, so he shrugged. “Dunno. Probably settle in with a book or a movie or something. Get to sleep early for a change.”

“Good.” Lars sat back with a pleased grin. “I’ll hang with you then.”

“You happy now, Mr. Itinerary?” James arched an eyebrow in Lars’ direction. “Got everybody’s evening planned to your satisfaction?”

“Just about.” Another of those cheeky grins.

Jason looked at Lars suspiciously. What was he up to?

@@@@@@

Jason fished in his pocket for his key card, keeping one eye on Lars who leaned against the wall, hands thrust in his pockets, waiting for Jason to open the door. There was an air of calculation under Lars’ friendly demeanour that Jason had learned over the years could only mean trouble for someone. And there were two someones in this hallway, him and Lars. Two guesses who the trouble was meant for.

“You have anything to drink in here?” Lars sauntered past him as he opened the door. He stood in the middle of the hotel room and looked back at Jason expectantly. “Or just what’s in the mini-bar?”

“Sorry, man, just the mini-bar.” Jason knew that Lars liked his vodka expensive and the vodka supplied by the hotel in their in-room mini-fridges was fairly ordinary. He threw his key card on the dresser and proceeded to empty his pockets.

“Have to make do with this then.” Lars tossed a plastic bag to the dresser on top of Jason’s belongings. “And beer.” He kicked off his shoes and flopped down over the foot of the bed.

“Works for me.” Jason picked up the baggie of weed. Maybe Lars _did_ just want to hang out after all; he had come bearing gifts.

Jason pulled two cans of beer from the small refrigerator, handed one to Lars and took a seat at the small table by the window. He popped his beer can and took a long swallow, watching as Lars did the same thing.

“It’s going to be one mutherfuck of a long day tomorrow,” Lars observed, resting his chin in one hand and fixing Jason with a steady gaze.

“Photo shoots usually are.” Jason tapped the baggie with his forefinger. “Want me to roll one of these now?” At Lars’ nod of agreement, he searched out his rolling papers and bent his head to the task.

“You were going to work on your music tonight, weren’t you?”

“Honestly?” Jason bobbed his head. “Yeah. I just wish I could get a handle on what James isn’t liking about it.” His fingers spread the flakes of leaf evenly on the white rectangle before nimbly beginning to roll it all into a perfect cylinder.

“Fuck, you’re good at that.” Lars grinned. “Always perfect.”

“Years of practice, my friend, years of practice.” Jason held up the finished joint and returned Lars’ smile.

“Light the fucker up then.” Lars tossed him a lighter. “And let’s get stoned.”

@@@@@@@

“So the thing is, Jay, we… me ‘n’ Kirk… we want you to help us out with this.” Lars leaned closer to Jason as they sat side-by-side on the sofa.

“Fuck, Lars, I dunno. It’s not me, man, you know?” Jason turned his head, oddly enough, not really disturbed by Lars’ closeness. Was it the grass and the beer? Or was it because— “Why do you always have to touch, man? All the time with the touching.”

“Dunno. Guess I just like the contact or something. But not you, huh?” He rested his chin on Jason’s shoulder. “Why is that?”

“Makes me uncomfortable,” Jason mumbled. “Just wasn’t brought up that way, you know? Guys don’t…” His voice trailed off as he became aware of Lars’ warm breath brushing his cheek. This wasn’t the same as James’ nearness; he didn’t feel the anticipation of danger, the coiled anger he always experienced with James. This was anticipation of a different sort.

“Some guys do," Lars said.

Jason looked down as Lars’ hand touched his thigh lightly.

“But you know that.” Suddenly, Lars was gone from his side—standing in front of him now, asking him if he wanted another beer.

“Yeah.” Jason nodded, realising his mouth was dry and that it wasn’t because he was stoned.

“Really, Jay. Kirk and I both think you can pull it off." Lars bent to pull more beer from the fridge and Jason was more than a little shocked to find that he was looking at Lars' denim-clad ass with interest. God Almighty, he'd seen the man's bare ass how many times over the years, but suddenly he's all interested in the way the faded blue denim is stretching over firm— _man, don't go there._

"I think you'd look hot, to be fucking honest." Lars returned to the sofa and flopped down, handing Jason a can.

"Oh, fuck, come on Lars, me?" Jason had never been called _hot_ in his lifetime and somehow he didn't think it was about to start now. Not even with the application of fucking eyeliner. Although, he had to admit, Lars in eyeliner was attractive. Yeah, attractive, that was a safe word. Hell of a lot safer than 'hot'.

"Jay." Lars leaned against Jason's arm and gave him a grin. "Dude, you have the greatest blue eyes, man. Even bluer than James sometimes. Just need to bring that out, you know? Show us all what you've got." He sipped at his beer, eyes twinkling and Jason swallowed.

"I dunno, man. Not entirely sure I'm comfortable with that." He cleared his throat.

"C'mon, Jay, it'll be fun." Lars' tone turned wheedling and he leaned even closer, turning his head to rest his chin on Jason's shoulder once again. Fleetingly, Jason wondered what kind of shampoo Lars was using these days, because it definitely smelled good. _Whoa, hang on Charlie!_ When did he start noticing Lars' fucking shampoo choices?

"I'll look like a dork." Jason sighed before chugging back his beer.

"No you won't, you'll look hot." Lars' mouth was close by his ear, and he couldn't suppress the slight shiver that shot through him. "Lemme show you. It won't hurt a bit." There was a soft chuckle that sent a tightening to his groin and before he knew it, Lars was straddling him, resting high on his thighs and digging in his jeans pocket. _Jesus, did he have to squirm so fucking much?_

"Lars." To his dismay, Jason's voice was tight and strangled—sort of like the way his jeans were feeling.

"Jay, relax, it washes off." Lars grinned and gave his cheek a pat. "Now look." He produced a small kohl pencil in his other hand and held it up for Jason's inspection. "The implement of… of… implement of hotness." His eyebrows rose as he leaned forward slightly. Jason groaned under his breath as Lars' crotch rolled over his growing erection. It wasn't the fucking eye pencil that was the goddamned implement of hotness.

"Now, see, this is what we do." Lars' fingertips slid over Jason's cheekbone, cool and dry against his hot skin. He gently lifted the glasses from Jason's face and set them aside. "Man, stop looking as if I'm gonna stab you or something." Lars chuckled, another of those soft, groin-tightening chuckles, and brushed Jason's cheek reassuringly. Jason's chin lifted slightly as he leaned into the touch. _This was crazy!_ This gentle teasing, the casual touching—so unlike what he experienced with James—this surprising intimacy was sending his senses into overdrive.

 _Fuck, he wanted Lars!_

The realization hit him even as Lars began to apply the pencil to the skin beneath his eye and he blinked rapidly. The tip of Lars' tongue snuck out to touch the bow of his upper lip, and Jason's own mouth went dry. The fingers that manipulated his face, tilting it further upwards, were firm and steady as they moved over Jason's skin. Even the tip of the pencil running under his eyes felt as silky as a caress. Jason's hips rose slightly, seeking the pleasant pressure of Lars' body.

"There, we're all done. Not fucking bad at all." Lars smiled and pulled back slightly. "Fuck, Jay, you're almost pretty."

"So, you're gonna be my make-up chick now?" Jason strove to be teasing, but somehow he thought that Lars couldn't help but hear the low breathiness in his voice. He sounded turned on, even to himself.

Fuck, it wasn't his imagination, Lars' breathing was coming a little faster and his cheeks were slightly flushed. Jason shifted beneath him and saw eyes that were usually full of teasing scorn or amused tolerance grow a tad wider, their depths holding something Jason had never glimpsed in them before.

"Bite me." Lars flipped up his middle finger, his lips twitching.

Jason bent his head and suddenly his lips were sliding down Lars' upraised finger, his tongue curling, wet and warm. He raised his gaze, expecting shock, distaste even, at his instinctive action. There was a small smile curving those full lips and warmth deep in Lars' eyes.

"You wanna suck my dick, Jay?" Lars pushed the fingers of his other hand through Jason's thick curls.

Jason slowly pulled his mouth from Lars' finger. His kohl-rimmed eyes widened and he gave a small, soft chuckle as he rolled his hips, rubbing his hard-on against the obvious bulge in Lars' jeans.

"As much as you seem to want me to." Suddenly, Jason was sure there would be laughing and jeering now. There always seemed to be laughing and jeering, so why had he let himself get this far? Stupid fuckwit Newkid, making a fool of himself again.

"This could be interesting." Lars murmured, his fingers clenching in Jason's hair and pulling back gently but insistently. Lifetimes passed, it seemed, before Lars dipped his head and coaxed Jason's lips open with soft but insistent little licks.

A soft sound, barely a moan from the back of his throat and Jason found himself being kissed, slowly, firmly and thoroughly. He should have known that Lars would know how to kiss well—what with that cupid's bow of a mouth—before his own tongue began to curve and stroke in the same rhythm. They both needed a shave, but the roughness of day old whiskers around their mouths, scraping tender skin only served to heighten Jason's need.

His hands moved to the buttons of Lars' denim shirt.

This wasn't James' long, leanly muscled chest beneath his hands; this was a taut, compact torso—one that trembled slightly with every stroke of his hands. His fingers brushed against cool metal, confusing him for a moment until he remembered Lars' nipple ring; he tugged lightly, smiling against Lars' mouth at the moan this produced. Touching, Lars was all about touching, he remembered. Touching that made Jason uncomfortable most of the time. Not this time. Not when his hands were making Lars quiver— _fucking quiver and moan, man!_

He slid his hands down to Lars' belt buckle.

Lars' mouth left his, nibbling along his jawline, doing insane things to the skin beneath his ear and Jason's fingers faltered. Fuck, this was Lars, man. What the hell were they doing? Lars' teeth pulled gently at Jason's skin, and with a small groan, Jason stopped thinking. Hands began to tug at his T-shirt as his fingers began to work again and the belt parted beneath them.

He slipped a hand inside Lars' jeans.

"Yeah." Lars' breath was warm against his ear. "Yeah, Jay."

Clothing began to fly.

Jason sat back on his haunches at one end of the sofa. There was no going back now. Even if he wanted to. His eyes raked over Lars at the other end of the sofa. Reclining back against the arm, his shirt open and hanging half off his shoulders, small pink marks on his chest showed clearly where Jason's mouth had already been. Jason's eyes narrowed slightly as Lars' tongue flicked out to run slowly over his lips. One bare leg rose, bending at the knee to rest against the back of the sofa, the other hanging off the edge of the couch and Jason drew in his breath at the obvious invitation.

"Now, Jay." Lars' voice was soft as he trailed his index finger along the length of his cock. Jason's groin tightened in response, and with a strangled groan, he ran his hand up Lars' bare thigh and bent forward. His lips slid over the head of Lars' cock and he couldn't help but smile at the small sound of pleasure the action elicited.

Encouraged, Jason circled the base of Lars' cock with fingers that only shook slightly and let his tongue swirl over and around the warm, silkhard flesh in his mouth. Lars' hands came to rest on his head, his fingers threading through the unruly curls. Jason let his mouth inch downwards then brought it back up, slowly, pressing his tongue to the underside of Lars' shaft. Lars' fingers tightened in his hair and tugged gently, pulling downwards even as his hips rose up slightly, coaxing. Jason let his mouth slide lower, taking more of Lars' cock into his mouth. There was a soft groan of satisfaction as Lars' hips began to thrust rhythmically in time with Jason's sucking.

"Fuck yeah, Jay."

With Lars' fingers in his hair, urging him on, Jason continued to suck with enthusiasm, his own hands curling around the backs of Lars' thighs. The small murmurs of sound coming from Lars gradually became deeper and more guttural and Jason tightened his grip. Suddenly Lars tensed beneath him and thrust deep into his mouth, holding himself still and with a strained groan, almost wrenched from his lips, began to shoot his load down Jason's throat. Jason paused for one short moment; his eyes flickering up to Lars' taut face, then began to swallow eagerly.

"Mutherfuck…" Lars sighed in contentment. He looked down at Jason, one eyebrow lifting weakly as Jason gave his cock a few final licks.

"Bet you didn't think I'd swallow, did you?" Jason's grin was boyish as he settled back on his haunches. Lars chuckled.

"Dude, I wasn't exactly in a position to be thinking at that precise moment." He hitched himself up a little straighter in the corner of the sofa. "Why don't you roll us up another joint?"

"Sure."

Lars watched as Jason climbed from the sofa and padded over to the table. Had he ever really studied Jason's ass? Fuck, had he ever thought that Newsted would ever suck him off? Jay was certainly full of surprises tonight. Not that he was complaining—quite the contrary. He rubbed his thumb thoughtfully over his lower lip as he contemplated Jason's nakedness. Who'd have thought… his lips curved.

"Here, light that up." Jason flopped back down next to him on the sofa and held out the joint. Lars was amused to note that he sat much closer now.

"Need the lighter, man." Lars leaned forward and shifted around until they were sitting side-by-side. Bare thigh lay warm against bare thigh and it made Lars smile. "Guess the touching thing isn't so bad now, huh?" He inhaled deeply from the just-lit joint and gave Jason a sideways look from under his lashes as he passed it to him.

"Shut up." Jason grinned, his cheeks tinting pink. He gazed down at the floor and Lars gave a delighted little chuckle. Jason had enjoyed blowing him as much as he'd enjoyed being blown. This was definitely an interesting turn of affairs. Lars rubbed his leg lightly against Jason's and was gratified to find the caress returned. He wondered fleetingly what James would say if he knew, and decided that all three of them were better off not knowing.

They smoked the joint in silence.

"Lars?" Jason dropped the tiny end of the joint into the ashtray and gave him a hesitant look from the corner of his eye.

"Hmmm?" Lars was pleasantly stoned, but he didn't miss the uncertainty in Jason's tone. He drew his fingertips lightly along the top of Jason's leg.

"It…," Jason paused to clear his throat, "it was okay, wasn't it? I mean…." He coloured a dull red. "I've only ever… with… well… and you know… James…" his voice trailed off.

"Jay." Lars turned about on the sofa so that he sat facing Jason, his leg drawn up now, his calf laying alongside Jason's thigh.

"Fuck, I sound like a fucking chick." Jason sighed miserably. "Forget it. Forget I said anything." He scrubbed at his face with his hands.

"Not gonna fucking forget it," Lars told him seriously. He took Jason's chin in his hand and forced him to look at him. "Ah, shit, Jay, you smudged the fuckin' eyeliner." He smiled to take the sting from the scolding. Poor Jason looked as if he wanted to sink right into the ground.

"Jay, it was way fuckin' okay, okay?" He drew his thumb gently under Jason's eye. "I didn't run screaming from the room." He moved to the other eye, still holding Jason's chin in his hand. "I enjoyed it. Very fucking much." He smiled gently and rubbed his thumb over Jason's lips—lips that were still swollen and red from sucking on his cock. "Met's rhythm section certainly has rhythm," he said softly, leaning forward. His tongue flicked out and ran slowly over Jason's lips.

"That's really fucking corny, man." Jason murmured, his lips parting.

"You're a farmboy, dude." Lars slid his tongue into Jason's mouth, pushing him against the sofa back with a hand on his chest. He felt, more than heard the small moan as he deepened the kiss. Was Jason always this responsive? Damn, no wonder James couldn't keep his hands off him.

Lars trailed his hand over Jason's chest, ghosting his fingertips over Jason's nipples, pulling more soft sounds from the back of Jason's throat. His hand moved lower, over Jason's stomach, pausing for a moment to tease at his belly button. Jason groaned into his mouth and Lars smiled around the kiss. He felt Jason's hand slide under the back of the shirt he still wore, felt the fingers curl into his skin as his own hand moved even lower to brush against the head of Jason's cock.

Jason's hips rose, pushing his cock into Lars' hand.

"I think we'd better do something about this situation." Lars straightened slightly and looked down into Jason's flushed face. His fingers tightened around Jason's cock and a pleased smile curved his lips as Jason's eyes rolled back in his head. "Oh yeah, we'd better do something."

Lars inched backward and bent over Jason's hips, holding Jason's rigid cock scant inches from his mouth. A small bead of moisture shone on the tip and his tongue snaked out to snatch it up. Jason groaned again, his nails digging into Lars' back. There'd be marks tomorrow. Lars lowered his head and slid his lips over the velvety head of Jason's cock.

"Fuck!" It was more a gasp than a word as Jason's hips jerked up again. Lars placed a hand on his belly, pressing lightly to keep him still. He was going to take his time with this, see how many more of those interesting sounds he could coax from Jason. He dragged his tongue slowly over the tip of Jason's cock, keeping his lips firmly around the shaft, right behind the head.

Jason moaned.

Lars smiled—so much for stiff, stoic Jason. Never would he think of him that way again. He couldn't, not when Jason was making such lovely, eager sounds. With every lick of his tongue, every nibble of his teeth, every slow draw down his shaft, Jason strained against his restraining hand and filled his ears with soft moans and cries that were making his own dick ache again.

"Lars." Jason finally gasped, his voice ragged with need. "Lars, fuck… please!"

Lars moved his hand from Jason's stomach to replace the one circling the base of his cock. Mouth moving up and down, sucking hard, Lars brought his other hand to cup Jason's balls and press them gently against Jason's body. Jason's desperate groan underscored the welts his fingernails left along Lars' back.

Jason's hips surged up, free now to pump his cock in and out of Lars' accommodating mouth, and Lars found himself moaning softly. Jason's hand left his back and suddenly his fingers were around Lars' rigid cock, stroking firmly in time with the rhythm of Lars' mouth.

"F-f-f-fuck." Jason arched up, ramming his cock deep into Lars' throat. With a muffled groan, Lars began to swallow the hot liquid, faltering only for a moment when he felt his own balls begin to tighten. Hold on a moment longer, another small moment… God… I can't… fuck… fuck… FUCK! Jason's low moans echoing in his ears, he straightened up, pulling his mouth from Jason's still spurting cock and allowed his hips to jerk forward into Jason's hand, giving in to his own orgasm with a moaning sight of relief.

"Jesus fuck, Jay." Lars leaned his shoulder against the back of the sofa and focused his bleary eyes on Jason's face.

"Badda-bing… badda-boom." Jason murmured softly. Lars' eyebrows climbed and he felt the laughter bubbling up in his chest. Jason's lips quirked.

"You're a fuckwit, you know that?" Lars's head sank to Jason's shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with mirth.

"Part of my charm." Jason chuckled, folding his hands across his stomach.

"So… you gonna wear the eyeliner tomorrow?" Lars shifted, settling himself beside Jason once again, and stretching his legs out in front of him. He kept his head resting on Jason's shoulder and Jason tilted his own head to lean against it.

"Yeah, I'll wear your fuckin' make-up shit," he sighed good-naturedly and they both fell silent. It was a comfortable easy silence, something totally new to Lars in Jason's company. It was… pleasant.

"Hey, Jay?" Lars reached out a while later and tapped Jason's folded hands with an index finger. "You know, sometimes, it's not all about power and control. It's just about having fun and feeling good."

"Yeah." Jason's voice was soft and thoughtful. He trapped Lars' finger with his thumbs and held it for a long moment. "Does this mean you're gonna get up and get the beer?"

  
@@@@@@@@

  
"Fuck, man!" Kirk turned wide eyes to Lars as they sat in the dressing room the next day, preparing for the shoot.

"Oh, ye of little fucking faith." Lars shook his head in mock dismay. "I told you I'd do it."

"You fucker! What'd you do, pay him?" Kirk punched Lars lightly on the shoulder. Lars rolled his eyes.

"No, I didn't pay him, asshole." He glared at Kirk. "Look, we spent some time together, talked, discussed things. And he agreed to do it. Okay?" He picked up the eyeliner pencil and began to run it under his eye. "And I have to say, he doesn't look too fucking bad, does he?" He looked at the reflection in the mirror; on the other side of the room Jason was trying in vain to tame his hair with a tube of gel.

"You discussed." Kirk snorted. "You don’t discuss, Uli, you keep battering and battering until people give up and do what you want." He began to dig into his pants pocket. "And no, he doesn't look too fucking bad."

"Aw, fuck!" James' voice boomed in the dressing room. Lars and Kirk turned to see him stare at Jason and then roll his eyes in a dramatic fashion that would have done Lars proud. "Not you too! Fuck! I work with fuckin' girls!" He stomped off to his corner of the room, muttering under his breath.

"It's fun, James." Jason called after him and turned to flash a grin at Lars and Kirk.

"That's right. Fun." Lars agreed loudly and gave Jason a quick thumbs up. The muttering from the corner increased in volume and they exchanged amused chuckles.

'Not fuckin' fun when I have to fork out two hundred fucking dollars." Kirk flipped open his wallet, not even trying to hide his grin. "Jesus, Uli, I was sure you wouldn't be able to do it. Not old straight-as-an-arrow Jason." He shook his head.

"Kirk." Lars reached out and put his hand over Kirk's before he could pull out any money. The motion pulled at the still-tender scratches on his back and he smiled. "Never mind the fucking money. Me 'n' Jay had a nice evening, the money… the money doesn't matter."

"Lars? Just what did you two get up to?" Kirk's eyes narrowed.

"Maybe when you become a member of Metallica's rhythm section, I'll tell you." Lars grinned cheekily. "But I still want the fuckin' foot massage, dude."

 _~finis~ _  
__

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Ang, my editor extraordinaire, who gave me the bunny back. And thanks to Joolz, for all her support and encouragement, AND the J Seal of Approval.


End file.
